


Cirice

by NachtHexe



Series: Ghostly Tales [2]
Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Feels, Meliora, happy/sad ending, music video fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtHexe/pseuds/NachtHexe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story about a friendship that lasted a lifetime and beyond…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cirice

I remember fondly the first time he visited me. It was the night of my tenth birthday. It wasn’t much of an occasion, only celebrated with a few close family members. My parents didn’t even ask if I’d like to invite anyone over - they knew I had no friends.

I went to bed quite late that evening, being the birthday girl and all. And it wasn’t long after my mama kissed me goodnight that I saw him. A small shadow standing in the corner of my bedroom. It took a good while for me to realize he was actually there, and not just a figment of my tired mind.

“Hi.” I whispered, sitting up in my bed, smiling to show him it was okay. He took a small step forward, into the light of the streetlamp pouring in through the window. I looked at him, curiously and slightly confused. Not because he was there, but because of how he was dressed.

He looked like he was all made up for Halloween, even though that was a week away. Plus he was around my age - and I was way too old for Halloween anyway. He had a tall hat on, like the pope I’ve seen over at my grandmother’s house. He kind of dressed like him too, with that long, flowy dress type of thing. Only difference was, this boys’ outfit was very dark - it was all just black, with a hint of emerald here and there, and gold trimmings.

His face paint was creepy, but nice all the same. For some reason, he went for a skeleton.

“Hi.” he answered, sounding a bit shy. I kept a slight smile on, hoping it would help.

“Are you okay?” I don’t know why that was my first question, considering the situation. But it felt somewhat appropriate. He took a few more steps towards my bed, and just stood there, looking at me.

“Yes. Are you?” I thought about that for a moment.

“I… guess… well, not really.” It was his turn to look slightly confused.   
“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m a weirdo. I mean, no one even wished me a happy birthday in school, they barely spoke to me. Like always. I suppose that makes me not okay.”

The boy shook his head and sat himself at the corner of my bed. Even he wouldn’t come near me.

“Just because people don’t appreciate you doesn’t mean you’re not okay.”

“But I’m such a loner.” I couldn’t help but whine, as if I was telling about it to my mama and not a stranger in my bedroom in the middle of the night. But he didn’t seem put off. Actually, he finally smiled for the first time that night.

“There’s nothing wrong with being alone, as long as long as you’re happy with who you are.”

I thought about this for another moment, looking at my lap. He had a point, I suppose, but…

“And how would you know?” I questioned doubtfully. His smile only widened.

“Because I’m a loner too.” He replied, sounding very honest and confident. I felt sad for him, for us. Being a loner is… well, pretty lonely. And cold.

“So, if we’re both loners, do you think we could be friends?” He grinned at me warmly, while I burned red with embarrassment. He nodded his head lightly, but eagerly.

“Of course, Cirice. I’d love that.” Upon hearing that, I got up on my knees and made my way towards him. I sat next to him, giving him a suspicious look. He smelled nice, though. Like candles.

“How do you know my name?”

“I guessed.” he answered, laughing breathlessly to himself. Before I could reply, however, he added,  
“Oh, and happy birthday.”

 

He was the best birthday present I ever got, my only friend. He always visited me at night, when my parents were asleep. He never really talked much about himself, just said that his name was Emi. And I was okay with not knowing, if that was what he wished. At first I felt a bit selfish, always talking about myself, my hobbies, interests, problems, fears. But he assured me it was okay, that he enjoyed listening to me. He was the only person to ever say that.

We weren’t just limited to talking, mind you. If I was feeling sick, he’d tell me a story or read me a book. If I felt sad, he’d just sit with me and cuddle, whispering soothing words into my ear as I cried into his funny outfit that I soon grew to love. If I was happy, he’d smile and laugh with me. When we got older, we even went on midnight walks.

He was there for me when I got my first period, and whimpered the whole night because it hurt so bad. He was there for me when I had my first date, and when a week later the boy I went out with broke it off. He was there, by my side, all those nights I spent studying for exams. And was there to share my pride or shame, depending on what result I got.  
He didn’t stop even when I left my family home to go to college, to work. We grew up together. As I transformed from a clumsy child to a grown, educated woman, he turned into a wise, handsome man. His skeletal makeup changed but never left. And he always wore either a pope-resembling outfit or a suit - those too changed numerously.

I never married or had children. And in hindsight, I’m happy I didn’t.  
Emi was there for me, helping me secretly through thick and thin. He was there for me on that last night, too. The night I knew, I sensed, to be my last on earth.  
He came, as always, as soon as the room was silent and empty. We’ve both aged, but it worked far better for him than it did for me. Even at 80 grand years, he was energetic and good looking, while I was a frail, bed-ridden thing.

He walked in soundlessly, took his hat off took a seat at my bedside. I looked long and hard at him, knowing this might be the last time I ever will.  
“How’s my girl today?” he asks softly, looking into my eyes with his mismatched ones. Despite all the negative thoughts buzzing around in my head, I can’t help but smile at the sight of him. Everything about his presence was always so soothing - his touch, his smell, his voice…

“You know, I’ve had better.” He gives a fake, barely audible laugh at my remark and takes my hand in his. My smile disappears, and I look at him sadly.  
“You know, I never got to thank you.” he looks at me, his eyes silently asking - ‘what for?’ - as if the answer wasn’t obvious enough. So I tell him what I’ve been meaning to say for decades.

“For listening when no one else would, for giving advice when no one else could. For drying my tears and sharing my smiles when no one else cared. For treating me like I’m important. Like my existion really meant something. For being my only true friend, and the best birthday gift I could ever even hope for. For being my guardian angel.”

By the time my little speech was done, tears were streaming down my face, but I couldn’t care less about that. They were good tears, happy tears. Those remembering the joyful past rather than the gloomy, unknown future. All in all, I had a good life. I was happy with who I was. And that was all thanks to Emi.

He smiled at me and caressed my damp cheek. He looked deeply into my eyes, like he was searching for something and was hoping to find it there.

“Well, my dear Cirice, you got one little thing wrong.” I stared him, surprised, lost. Definitely not even near the reply I expected. That’s when he got up and and approached the door. He fell silent for a moment as he opened it - and the sight before me almost made me choke on my breath. The white light, the one they always speak of, was right there, just outside my hospital door - was this truly it, the end?

“No, my girl. I’m your guardian demon. Now,” he turned to face me, away from the door, and there he was. The same boy I met in my bedroom 70 years ago. He stretched his small palm towards me.

“Will you come with me?”

I didn’t have to think twice before I, now also in my ten year old form, jumped out of the bed I’ve been stuck in for so long, and grabbed his hand tightly. I never wanted to let go again. Entwining our fingers together, we both ascended down the steps, towards the bright light coming from down under. Towards our own little piece of paradise.  
My guardian demon and I.


End file.
